


the finest sweetest thing in the world

by womanaction



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, F/F, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 04, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 03:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13068273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womanaction/pseuds/womanaction
Summary: When Willow looks for Anya's lost necklace, what she finds will change her life forever. Shippy + a good dose of gen. Written for @buffyfemslash's Buffyverse Secret Santa, for Tumblr user @jenny-calendar.





	1. the sun in the form of a girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Eclectic_Bookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/gifts).



> Prompt: willow/fred + fred’s a part of the scooby gang
> 
> This spiraled rapidly out of control, so I broke it up into multiple parts. This is the first part of three - I'll post the second part tomorrow (12/20) and the last part on Thursday (12/21). This part is the most gen, with a lot of setup for the next two parts!
> 
> Also, since this is a Willow/Fred pairing eventually, a note regarding Fred's age. This didn't really occur to me until I was already writing it, but if we assume Fred didn't take any years off or skip any years/finish early, she should be at least 22 when she gets to Pylea, making her 27 when she gets out in canon (when Willow would still be around 20). However, in real life Aly is actually a couple years older than Amy. To reduce the age gap a little, Fred here was born in the same year as Amy (1976), making her around 20 when she goes through the portal and 22ish when she gets out. I feel a little silly quibbling over this in the Buffy fandom, where you're lucky if the age differences in your ships are < 100 years, but I wanted to clear that up in case anyone else overthinks this kind of stuff.

Willow feels a little tingly as she sets up for the spell. _Good_ tingly, like riding a roller coaster or the first time Oz called her his girlfriend, not like the kind of tingly she felt before passing out that one time she had to give a speech in third grade. She’d felt so stupid and powerless and embarrassed that she stayed home from school for days, until Xander spilled lemonade on his pants and everybody forgot about her passing out. Secretly, she’d always thought he’d done that on purpose, but she was a little afraid to ask in case she got her illusions shattered.

Anyway. These were the good kind of tingles. _Power_ tingles.

That girl Anya is blathering on about the necklace some more. Willow regards her a little skeptically. Something seems _off_ about this whole thing, what with the black magic and one of Cordelia’s friends actually acknowledging her existence. Then again, maybe it’s just the Hellmouth-y version of someone pretending to be her friend so she’d do their homework.

Not that that had happened lately, anyway. Not since Buffy came to town. But she’s mad at Buffy right now for thinking she’s all boring and lame so she pushes that thought out of her mind. At least magic is more exciting than remedial history assignments, she thinks glumly.

“Well? Are we doing this or not?”

Jeez Louise. Next to Anya, Cordelia has the patience and tact of a saint. No wonder they’re friends. “I know what I’m doing,” she says, but it comes out a little less intimidating and a little more whiny.

Anya must think the same thing, because she rolls her eyes.

“Hey!” Willow gets up like she’s about to leave, because _hello_ , she does have other things she could be doing. Even if those things are other people’s homework. “Do you want my help or not?”

Anya blinks at her and then gives her an appraising look. “Now that’s more witchy of you,” she says, and appears to mean it as a compliment.

Still smarting a little from her rude behavior, Willow grumbles, “Yeah, like you’ve known a lot of witches.”

“I have, actually,” the other woman replies in a very matter-of-fact tone. “They’re very good friends to have.”

“I’m not your friend.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Anya says immediately, but she looks a little put out anyway.

Willow doesn’t know how to feel about that, so she just sets down the last bone, clears her throat, and announces, “I’m ready.”

And in that moment, she is.

* * *

 

Of course, she didn’t expect the spell to go all…kaplooey.

The long and the short of it is this. Anya is some sort of weird alternate universe demon-y thing. Also, super old, which would be cool if she wasn’t terrifying and possibly still evil.

But here’s the thing. Classmates turning out to be ancient evils? Not as unusual as you might think, living above the Hellmouth and all.

The stuff she saw when the spell went wrong, on the other hand, would keep her awake for a while.

“It was like a magical power surge,” she explains over the noise of the Bronze.

Buffy furrows her brow and gives her that not-quite-getting-it nod. “Only instead of a blackout - ”

“I could see everything!” she continues excitedly. “It was like boom, knowledge explosion! In different dimensions, different times…it was overwhelming.”

“Ooh!” Xander pipes up. “Did you happen by any chance to see a Cheetara action figure, missing an arm, lost sometime between May and June 1989?”

She gives him a look and he shuts up.

Buffy, still frowning, twists the straw in her fruity drink. “So what, it was a bunch of missing wedding rings and lone socks?”

“No, I think it was all stuff with a heavy magic signature. Ancient tomes, relics. Stuff lost through magical means.”

“Sounds right up Giles’s alley,” Xander observes. “So why the freakage? I thought you were kind of into the whole witchy knowledge thing.”

“It wasn’t just spellbooks,” she says awkwardly.

Buffy raises an eyebrow.

“There was also a girl. Woman,” she corrects herself. “In a cave.”

“A girl in a cave?” Xander echoes. “She wasn’t wearing a necklace made out of bones or anything, was she?”

She knows him well enough to hear the genuine concern in his voice. “She was okay. I guess. As okay as she could be. But wherever she was, it can’t be good. It didn’t feel like...Earth.”

“So someone lost a person in another dimension,” Buffy says, sounding a little distant. “Any idea who?”

Willow shakes her head. “I was going to talk to Giles about it tomorrow.”

“Talk to Giles about what?” Oz asks, appearing behind her and handing her a mug. Mm, decaf latte.

“A history project I’m working on for my independent study,” Willow says, and it’s not even really a lie because she has been meaning to ask about that, too. Xander raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything; Buffy still seems lost in thought.

Oz just nods, apparently accepting her explanation.

She’s not sure why she doesn’t just tell him the truth about what happened. Maybe it’s because things between them are still shaky at best after all the Xander weirdness. Or maybe, if she’s more honest, it’s because she knows he’s concerned about her relationship with the magicks, and doesn’t want him trying to dissuade her from saving this girl.

But she knows she can do it. She just…knows. 

* * *

“And her name is Fred!”

Okay, so maybe she got a little too excited about the discovery. Excited and scared, in a way that made her turn to Anya of all people for some backup. Then that made her spill to Oz instead of Giles because, well. His glasses would need some sort of industrial strength wash if he found out she was doing witchcraft with a former demon.

Buffy wrinkles her nose. “Someone’s parents were jerks,” she observes.

“Wasn’t there some song like, _I’m in love with a girl named Fred_?” Xander hums, brow furrowing.

“It’s from _Once Upon A Mattress_ ,” Cordelia says matter-of-factly.

Xander raises both eyebrows. “And you know that…how?”

“The high school put it on when we were in 8th grade. God, would it have killed you to get involved?” She pronounces the word with a clear capital I.

“The only reason you were ‘involved’ was so you could gape at that junior who never gave you the time of day. What was his name? Kurt Bradley?”

“It was Cam,” Cordelia replies severely, “and excuse me for having something better to do with my Friday nights than sit at home watching _Babylon 5_!”

Xander holds up a finger. “Hey!” he objects. “It comes on Wednesdays.”

Willow tries not to roll her eyes. “Guys! Focus! Major breakthrough here. I talked to someone in another dimension! I think that’s a little more interesting than whoever Cordelia had a crush on in 8th grade.”

Oz, silent until now, presses a kiss to her forehead. “Infinitely,” he says softly, squeezing her hand.

“Yes, and not only do I not understand your cultural references, but I also don’t understand why Willow gets all the credit when I’ve been doing half the work,” Anya says loudly, and for the seventeenth time today she wonders why she felt the need to invite a thousand-year-old demon into their little group. Not that Anya really needed an invitation; she seemed to take Willow’s continued tolerance of her for magic-related reasons as unconditional acceptance and friendship. “I’ve been told that social capital is very important in high school, and I deserve to amass some!”

Buffy doesn’t acknowledge the ex-demon as she turns to Willow and asks, “Can she get back the way she came?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. It was a whole mystic-portal type deal. She said she’d been working on a way to reverse it, but…”

“But she’s also living in a cave,” Anya continues helpfully. “If _only_ I had my amulet back. Interdimensional travel was so easy then.”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t you just use it to like…be evil?” Cordelia asks, waving a hand dismissively.

Anya looks offended. “I used my powers to secure vengeance for the wronged women of the world.”

“Fred’s situation is a little more dire than getting cheated on,” Willow says, feeling a twinge of guilt when Cordelia looks away.

“ _Wronged_ women,” Anya stresses. “She said she didn’t open the portal. You know what that means.”

“It means someone probably trapped her there,” Buffy says slowly, looking distant.

Anya claps. “Exactly. All she’d have to do is wish vengeance on the bastard who did it.”

“But we don’t know who did it,” Willow points out.

Anya smiles chillingly. “I have my ways. When I’m, you know, a demon. I don’t really understand the way you humans do research. If this Jeeves knows so much, why is he only a servant?”

Buffy’s still got Thinking Face. Willow has a sudden, sinking feeling that she knows what this is about. They haven’t said the other Slayer’s name in days, but based on the birds chirping outside, they’re certainly hurtling towards the annual Big Bad spring showdown. If Anya really used to be as tough as she (constantly) reminds them she had been, they could use the firepower. “Tell me again about this amulet.”

* * *

“I want to give Anya her powers back,” Buffy says, in what must be the oral equivalent of Willow’s resolve face.

As expected, Giles takes his glasses off and cleans them.

Willow’s stomach sinks. As Buffy continues to argue, she taps Anya’s shoulder. “The spell,” she mouths.

“What?” Anya asks, at her typical volume. “Why aren’t you making sound? I saw that happen once in a village where they all lost their voices. The worst part was I couldn’t even figure out what vengeance the woman who summoned me wanted because they were all illiterate and her hand gestures were very vague. The next night her husband’s heart was ripped out and who do they blame but the demon even though all I did was give him syphilis! So unfair.”

Thankfully, Giles has raised his voice in volume to match Buffy’s. “The spell,” Willow says through gritted teeth.

She feels Oz’s eyes on her, seeking. His expression is probably unreadable to anyone who doesn’t know him well, but she understands it easily despite their recent distance. She nods once at him.

“Hey,” Oz says quietly to Giles as Willow lights a candle. “There’s something you need to see.”

The tension in Giles’s jaw fades as the projection of Fred comes into focus. Behind her, she’s vaguely aware of Xander making the expected _Star Wars_ reference.

“Hi,” the tiny projection says, sounding stronger and more determined than Willow’s heard her yet. “You must be Mr. Giles. Willow’s told me about you.” Addressing the whole room, her eyes shine as she continues, “I think I’ve figured it out.”

Giles leans forward ever-so-slightly.

Fred turns around, then pauses. “Willow? Can they see the, um - ”

“Equations! Right.” She waves a hand unnecessarily and the projection extends to show the rocks behind Fred, covered in glowing blue (but still nearly indecipherable) symbols. One corner of Fred’s mouth lifts and she pushes up her glasses. Willow smiles encouragingly.

“Okay, so lots of freaky math stuff, but over there looks like letters,” Buffy observes.

“They’re consonant representations of the mathematical transfiguration formula. The recitation is complex…the symbols have no inherent order mathematically. The exact permutation specifies where the portal will be opened. Like a code.” She says this all very quickly.

“So if you say…” Xander leans in, straining to read. “Plrtz Glrb-”

“It opens a portal.”

“So what’s the issue?”

“She doesn’t know where the portal will open,” Giles says absently, gaze intent.

Fred nods once. “I’ve tried rearranging them so many ways over the past few years.” Willow doesn’t miss the way her eyes flick down on the word “years.” “But without the correct formulas, it seemed hopeless. I had no way to find out where I was in relation to our dimension.”

Anya sits up a little straighter. “Until we found you!”

“Until you found me,” Fred agrees, sounding just as excited as the ex-demon. Willow tries not to roll her eyes at the “we.”

“My amulet is the key to all of this,” Anya adds proudly.

Fred points to the scribbled schematic they’d made up the night before. “Anya’s amulet has immense power. It created the alternate dimension that’s folded within yours, and it anchors the entire thing. Sort of like a center of gravity, everything in that dimension bends toward it. If it’s removed, the dimension collapses.” She turns back around, grinning.

“You might need to explain it more,” Willow says apologetically. Fred’s so brilliant, she thinks suddenly, that she doesn’t even comprehend how brilliant she is. “Uh, in simple terms.”

“Right. So – I can’t locate the portal, and Willow and Anya don’t have the power to make the portal. But together, we can create a sort of channel between Pylea and that dimension and the transfiguration magic would be drawn into the amulet.”

Giles’s brow is furrowed. “Jen – Someone I knew had similar theories, about the incorporation of science and magic. But I’ve never seen something like that implemented on this scale. It would be remarkable if it succeeded.”

“So what’s the downside?” Cordelia asks bluntly.

“If I’m right - ”

“Which you totally are,” Willow says, unable to stop herself from gushing a little.

Pink colors Fred’s cheeks. “If I’m right, the transfiguration would cause a sort of power surge. It would collapse the alternate dimension, bringing both me and the amulet into this one at the exact moment in your timeline where that dimension was created.”

“So you’d go back in time,” Buffy establishes.

“From your perspective, yes.” She bites her lip almost imperceptibly. “I – I can help you all, once I’m back there. Willow’s told me about the other Slayer. I might be able to help by warning you guys to make sure she doesn’t, you know - ”

“Make with the crazy and start killing people?” Xander asks wryly.

“Yeah. That.”

“But if it comes to battle, you’ll have the amulet,” Buffy says, casting a slightly nervous glance in Giles’s direction.

“And she can give it to me! Provided I don’t kill her first, you know, since I’ll still be evil when she shows up.” Anya flashes a bright smile to rival Cordelia’s.

“I can take you,” Buffy says nonchalantly, smiling a little.

Cordelia stretches. “So what’s the hold up? No offense, Fred, but you look like you haven’t had a shower since everyone was doing the Macarena. I’m sure you’re itching to get home.” She pauses. “Probably literally. Eww.”

Either Fred doesn’t notice the insults or she just chooses to ignore them, closing her eyes blissfully. “Ooh, showers. I remember those.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. So do your witchy thing, Willow, and get her out of there.”

“I’d like to talk to Buffy and Anya alone before we make any rash decisions,” Giles says, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Cordelia tosses her ponytail. “So what, you’re worried she’s going to go all evil and kill us? From what Buffy’s said, we’re pretty much screwed either way, and I’d rather her kill us than some giant demon thing. At least Anya wears Prada.”

“Thank you, Cordelia!” Anya says brightly.

“Yes, thank you, Cordelia,” Giles repeats tiredly. “Now…out?”

She puts up her hands. “I’m going.”

They file into the hall awkwardly. Cordelia looks at the others and remarks, “Well, I was supposed to take Anya shopping for a prom dress, so I guess if she’s not evil in five minutes you can tell her to meet me at my car.”

Xander watches her go, then frowns. “Am I supposed to go with them? Because that sounds like a nightmare.”

“You did ask a demon to the prom,” Willow points out.

“ _Ex_ -demon,” he corrects, sounding uncannily like the former demon in question. “And I didn’t realize it was going to be a package deal with my ex, demon. I’m going to go try and find something more fun to do. Like extra credit for gym or...hammering a nail through my eyes.”

Oz touches her shoulder as Xander disappears from sight. “You hanging around?”

She nods, brushing her fingertips against his automatically. She must frown, because he gives her one of those astute looks she’s been dreading. “You want to talk about it?”

In her head, she was smooth, calm, and collected, carefully explaining her current mental and emotional state and the reasoning behind her decision. What comes out in reality is something like “So. Um. Theworldissobig and I…I don’t know what I want and I’m thinking about the future and I’m scared, Oz, I’m scared! And it’s stupid because I don’t even know if we’ll have a future – you and me separately, I mean, but also you and me together because I…don’t know what I want.”

He nods slowly, a hard swallow the only visible sign of emotion. “You need some space. I get it.”

She lets out the breath she’s been holding. Of course he gets it. He’s such a good guy. “Thank you,” she says, sincerely.

“Does it have anything to do with Fred?”

“What? What would it have to do with Fred?” she asks, oddly warm.

Oz shrugs. “I don’t know, I know you’ve been talking a lot, and you’re really interested in the whole magic thing. Might change your path.”

“Oh. Yeah, maybe.”

“Hmm,” he says, taking one step and stopping.

“What?” she asks nervously. Which is weird, because she shouldn’t be nervous. Not about this, anyway. Maybe about, you know, the world potentially ending, or what she’ll do if it doesn’t end, or even this big old spell that could hopefully help keep it from ending.

“I was just thinking, if it does have to do with Fred, maybe it’ll be different once she goes back. But since it’ll be different, we won’t be us. It’ll be other Willow and other Oz. Kind of weird.”

“It’s not a sure thing, the spell.”

He smiles and bumps her shoulder as he walks by. “I know you, Willow. It’s a sure thing.”


	2. a storm in the form of a girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of drug use in this chapter.

“And the hat,” Willow chokes out through a giggle. “The _hat_!”

Fred is giggling too. Before…before Pylea (she’s trying to think about it, not too much, just enough, because thinking about things and giving them names is power, Willow’s taught her that), she never would have expected to be so grateful to not be able to breathe. It’s not even the story, really – she didn’t get it the first time she heard it, either. It’s just Willow, eyes shining and face all red and scrunched up, doing her little gasping, hiccuppy laugh. It’s enough to make her forget they’re in public (at the Espresso Pump that she’d heard so much about). It’s only her second time “out” in Sunnydale in as many weeks, but she feels herself growing fond of the little town already.

“I totally did it again, didn’t I?” Willow asks, catching a glimpse of her face.

Fred tries to tool her expression into something resembling innocence, but there’s a reason her top billed role in elementary school was “Tree #3.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, still a little giggly and high off the lack of oxygen.

Willow groans and covers her face. “I told you that story before, didn’t I?”

“It’s not your fault you don’t remember something you did in a timeline you haven’t lived through,” she says seriously. She breaks her brownie in half and absently folds the other half into her napkin and stashes it in the purse Buffy lent her.

“It’s just so weird. I’ve only known you for two weeks, but you’ve known me longer. It’s all kinds of mind-boggly,” Willow says, tracing a circle in the air with her straw.

“Trust me, after three years stuck by yourself in a cave, you don’t really mind hearing the same story twice.” Experimentally, she scoops some whipped cream off the top of her double-mocha milkshake and transplants it onto the remaining brownie half.

Willow’s brow furrows and any trace of giggling disappears from her tone. “I’m so sorry,” she says in a hushed tone, but Fred just smiles.

“It’s okay,” she says, and it isn’t, but she likes to imagine it gets a little okayer each time she says it. “So what do you think the meeting is about?”

The redhead’s eyes widen and she leans in conspiratorially. “I think…Giles is just bored. Sunnydale has been surprisingly normal lately.”

“After all your stories before I was kind of expecting things to be weirder when I got here,” Fred confesses, trying not to sound disappointed. “So far it’s less evil than LA. At least, the people are nicer.”

Willow sucks down the last of her mochaccino before replying. “Evil’s probably just taking one of those seasonal breaks. Hey, I betcha we’ll be up to our knees in demons by February, just you wait.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Fred protests, but she can’t hide her smile. “It just…seemed pretty neat, what you guys do. You know, from your stories. And you have so many friends.”

Willow makes that face that Fred knows is her thinking-about-Oz face. “Hey, did future-me say anything about Oz and me?” she asks, confirming her suspicion. “Like how we got back together?”

“No, we didn’t really talk about that. I just knew y’all were.” Future!Willow hadn’t said that much about Oz at all, but she’s not sure if she should mention that. Funny how in all the discussions she’d had about theoretical time travel, the ethics of disclosing conversations with the same person in an alternate future to their current self had never come up.

“But we were happy?” Willow says wistfully, not really asking.

“Yeah,” Fred agrees, hoping against hope it isn’t a lie.

* * *

 

Fred’s been a lot of things, but directionless has never been one of them. If anything, she’s always felt pulled in too many directions. But right now, as she lies on Willow’s bed, tossing caramel popcorn in the air and catching it with her mouth, she understands the term “unmoored.”

It had started earlier that day. The Scoobies were seniors, of course – she’d almost forgotten in the midst of all the vampires and demons that normal teenage life was bound to continue happening. And this time of year, normal teenage life meant college admission letters.

She has taken to hanging around in the library with Mr. Giles (who insisted she call him Rupert, but she’s from _Texas_ and that simply isn’t done so Mr. Giles it is) while the others are in class. It’s comforting and safe there, like her cave in Pylea but filled with books and a good deal warmer. Mr. Giles is warm too, not physically but interpersonally. He has kind eyes and he always seems willing to talk to her or to let her be, depending on how good a day she’s having. She’s been learning more about the theory of magic. Unfortunately the literature is pretty thin in many of the most interesting areas, but she’s been keeping at it because she’s hoping she’ll find something useful to the others.

Also, she doesn’t really know what else to do. So.

Anyway, earlier that day Cordelia had come into the library.

(The others complain about her but Fred doesn’t mind her so much. When Fred had first arrived in Sunnydale, back when she was too overwhelmed and anxious to be out in public for more than a minute, Cordelia had shown up at her door unannounced with a little sparkly pad. She wrote down some numbers, left, and came back several hours later with several bags bursting with clothes. “Giles is fronting the bill,” she’d said bluntly when Fred awkwardly tried to thank her. “And he’s a cheapo, just so you know. But I found sales on some good labels anyway, in case you ever feel like going out in public. And please, for the sake of society, burn anything that Willow lent you.”)

Cordelia is flipping through her letters, occasionally pausing to write something down on that same sparkly pad. Abruptly, she stops and looks at Fred. “So Fred, you’re like a genius, right? Like you graduated everything early and you’ve got a crazy high IQ or whatever.”

“I don’t know if IQ is the best measure of intelligence,” she says awkwardly, not sure what Cordelia wants. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t mind Cordelia usually – there’s not much confusing social ambiguity with her, usually. 

She rolls her eyes. “All I mean is…you’re better than Sunnydale. I can’t wait to get out of here and go to LA. Xander’s going to be stuck here, because, I mean, you’ve met him. And Buffy’s probably going to hang around because that whole supernaturally chosen duty thing works for her. Which sucks, but not a huge loss. Academically gifted she is not. But you’re super brilliant and you look almost cute in that outfit.”

“Thanks?” She can’t really feel the lower half of her body anymore, and some distant part of her brain that’s still functioning helpfully lets her know she’s probably having a panic attack. Her breathing is really loud.

“Oh, there’s the bell. I guess I should put in an appearance.” Cordelia strides out of the room, tossing her hair over her shoulder and apparently completely unaware of the effect she’s just had on Fred.

So that’s how she got here. Or why she got here, anyway. She can’t really remember the intervening hours, all a blur of blood rush and heart rate pounding and innumerable fears she can’t put a name to. But at some point she must have moved from “panic” to “complete and total apathy.”

She’s vaguely aware of Willow’s eyes on her, full of concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Fred shakes her head, a little worried that she’ll start crying if she talks. She doesn’t even really know what she’d cry about. She just keeps thinking of that person she was before, before Pylea, carefree and curious and not scared of checkout lines or open spaces.

“Did this ever happen to you before…the place?”

Fred nods once.

“What did you do then?” Willow asks carefully. She squeezes Fred’s hand, which is a little funny because she hadn’t even realized they were touching.

She almost laughs, absurdly. “Um. I’d smoke weed.” She peeks at Willow’s face, suddenly anxious again. Maybe she’s screwed up Willow’s perceptions of her somehow and she’ll abandon her.

Willow just looks thoughtful. “Yeah, that’s what Oz does too. I could call him.”

“No, you don’t have to do that,” Fred says. They’re not weird exes or anything, they see each other almost every day, but the idea of Willow calling Oz on her behalf seems weird. Especially because they were still together in the other universe, so she can’t help but feel like it’s kind of her fault they didn’t end up getting back together, even if she doesn’t know how it could be. But people are complex, and time travel just makes that worse. Maybe it’s part of some ripple effect, like Anya’s inclusion in the group or Faith not being evil changed things. “I mean, you've never smoked, right?”

“I was always worried about messing up my record,” confesses Willow. An evil grin spreads across her face as she continues, “But I already got all my acceptances and in the best case scenario we've got so far, the high school blows up after we get our diplomas. So…I think I’m safe.”

Fred’s smiling back goofily before she knows what hit her.

* * *

 

The summer wears on as their numbers slowly attenuate.

Angel, as promised, leaves immediately after graduation.

(Not too long after her arrival in Sunnydale, she meets the repentant vampire at the Bronze. Willow is distracted, so Xander, appointing himself as her apparent companion, announces, “Angel, Fred, Fred, Angel. You’ve both recently been to hell dimensions, so, you know. Bond.”

She looks anxiously at the man cloaked in darkness. He raises a single hand and says “Hi” in a quiet and even tone. Xander disappears, leaving them alone.

“So…hell. Bad, huh?” Angel says finally.

Her giggle surprises both of them. “Yeah.” After a minute she adds, “Kinda makes you appreciate the quiet though, huh?”

His relief is obvious. “God yes.”

Later, he abruptly gets up and she assumes he’s left, but he returns five minutes later with an armful of desserts. “It’s the little things you miss,” he explains, avoiding her eyes. “I didn’t know what you liked. Or what’s good here, since I can’t…eat.”

“My hero,” she sighs in an over-exaggerated version of her natural accent before taking a bite of a triple-chocolate-chunk cookie. She swallows and adds, “Since you brought it up, I’ve been reading a little bit about vampire physiology and I have some questions…”)

Faith leaves a week after Angel, Giles in temporary tow.

(The only real conversation she has with the other Slayer happens a couple of days before she leaves. As Faith and Buffy train in the backyard, she’s working her way through the pile of books she managed to salvage from the library. She’s so absorbed she must miss Buffy going in to wash up.

“Hey.”

Faith is looking at her with an expression she can only describe as “tentative.” Fred can’t say she feels any more certain. Even though _this_ Faith has toed this side of the good-bad line, she can’t help but remember what other Willow had told her about other Faith. Worse than the words were the tremor in other Willow’s voice and the fear in her eyes. Fred never wanted to see that expression again.

“Hey,” she says, trying to maintain her composure.

Faith coughs, and again an awkward expression crosses her face. “Uh…you lived in LA before, right?”

“For a little while.”

“You…like it?”

“I liked UCLA,” Fred answers truthfully.

Faith stretches her arms behind her head. “Look, I’m not into this beating around the bush shit. Me and Angel could use a third person, especially someone as smart as you, to help keep our heads on straight and maybe do some of that research stuff. A high school dropout and a three-hundred-year-old dead guy…not exactly the best at that.”

“Willow did teach him to use Google the other day,” she offers, giggling a little. Faith rolls her eyes fondly. “I appreciate the offer, I guess, but—”

“But you wanna hang around here. I figured, especially since you and Willow are so tight, but I had to ask.” Faith eyes her perceptively. “She’s good people,” she says finally. “You two should take care of each other. You should let B teach you how to fight proper though.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Fred says, flushing a little. “I’m sure she’s busy.”

“You kidding me?” Faith scoffs. “She lives for that shit. Not that your scrappy cave fighting isn’t badass, but weapons are your friend.”

“I’ll think about it.”)

Willow is strong as she says goodbye to Oz, off to learn to control the wolf within. But that night she breaks down halfway through movie night. “What if that was it? What if – what if I get one shot at love and that’s just it, kaplooey, I'm alone forever?”

Fred, Buffy, and Xander take turns reassuring her, but she feels like the walls are closing in. Maybe this is all her fault after all. Maybe in that other universe they would have stayed together. But when Willow blinks her tears away and says with conviction, “I love you guys so much,” she feels a little better.

Then, feeling braver than she has in years, Fred takes Mrs. Summers’s car to the store. Her license hasn’t lapsed yet, but it’s the first time she’s driven since returning to Earth. Four pints of Ben and Jerry’s are worth the clenched jaw and white spots on her hands, especially when Willow's stifled sobs turn into laughter, the combination of sugar high and emotional exhaustion making _The Big Lebowski_ ten times funnier than it should be.

(She thinks she gets it, what Willow saw – sees? – in Oz, when the three of them get high together. Not that he’s really any different than usual, but without the distractions of everyone else around she notices the little things, like the way his hand trembles as he holds the lighter or the way his eyes crease up each and every time Willow talks. He obviously still loves her, in the way Fred’s junior high friends had longed for a guy to love them. It kind of makes her heart hurt, but she’s not sure if it’s for him or for Willow or strangely for herself, and it’s confusing so she chooses not to think about it. Better to stick to simpler stuff, like the origins of the universe.)

Xander puts off leaving for another week, ostensibly to finish packing but Fred thinks it’s to make sure Willow is okay. When he finally goes, he takes Anya with him (“I’ve never traveled by car before. It seems intolerably slow but it’ll be relationship-building,” she says confidently). Fred thinks about the crushed remains of the amulet under what used to be Sunnydale High and wonders how the ex-demon remains so irrepressible.

(“Your family’s in Texas, right? San Antonio?” Xander asks her as Anya daintily places her Louis Vuitton luggage in the trunk of his ramshackle car.

“Yeah. I sent them a letter with no return address.” She doesn’t know how to explain why she didn’t want them to contact her. The thought of going back to San Antonio, back to the life she’d had before she knew about portals and hell dimensions and demons and vampires, is oddly intolerable.

Xander nods. “You want us to check on them? I can drive slowly by your old house or something.” He winces. “Uh, in a less creepy way than it sounds.”

She scrambles for a pen and writes down the address. It looks smaller than it should, scrawled on the back of a receipt. Xander folds it up and puts it in his pocket. “Thanks. I don’t…they wouldn’t understand. But they’re…”

“They’re still your family. I got it.” He claps her on the back as they hug goodbye.)

For someone who’s been talking a big game about moving to LA and becoming a movie star for the last several months (and from what Willow says, way before that), Cordelia takes her time going. Finally, two weeks after Xander and Anya leave, she sighs over her nonfat iced latte and says, “I’m leaving tomorrow. This is embarrassing, but since Harmony got turned into a vampire I guess you guys are my closest friends here. We should take pictures or something, so when I’m super famous you can have proof to show people you knew me.”

Of course, she flashes her trademark grin after this, and they end up going along with the idea. There’s an odd light in Buffy’s eyes, and after they spread all the Polaroids out on the kitchen counter, she produces sparkly gel pens and insists that they _all_ sign the photos.

Naturally, Cordelia’s signature is the largest.

“Your handwriting is pretty,” Willow says, resting her head on Fred’s shoulder. It’s funny, she thinks, how that sort of touch has become second nature to them. 

* * *

 

At the end of the summer, she helps Buffy and Willow move into their dorm room. Joyce insists that Fred keep staying in the spare room while she figures out what she’s doing next (“I’m not ready to be a lonely old lady just yet,” she says, with a little laugh that makes Fred think of her own mom), but Fred elects to spend the night with Willow for Buffy’s last night at home.

“I do kind of miss school,” she confesses to Willow. They’re shoulder to shoulder on the little dorm room bed, stereo turned up just enough to cushion the sounds of moving furniture from the other side of the paper thin walls.

Willow turns on her side to face Fred. They’re so close she can feel the other woman’s warm breath on her face. “You should come back, then. I know it’s no UCLA, but it’s not a bad school.”

“I’m no UCLA either. I’m a different person. I know about magic and I lived in a cave for three years and the other night,” she lowers her voice, “I killed a vampire with a flamethrower.”

“Yeah, your CV might be too cool for UC Sunnydale.”

“I’m serious!” she protests. “My research interests have totally shifted, too. There’s this whole other world out there and contemporary theorists don’t have a clue.”

“So make your own theory. I could help with the magicky bits. Ooh, and there’s a Wicca group on campus I’m going to go to, they might know even more.” Willow’s eyes light up and she scoots a little closer. “Did I tell you the other day I was able to transmute a fly without an incantation? I mean, I only turned it into a different species of fly, but it was still neat.”

“Oh! Did you use the circular meditation beforehand or was it an earth flow technique?” Fred asks, momentarily distracted.

“I used the meditation. So far the only thing I’ve been able to do from earth flow is float a little speck of lint, and I’m not really sure that I closed the window before doing that.” She sighs, and Fred feels the little hairs on her arms stand up. “You know…I signed up for a physics class.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” She indignantly hits Willow's arm.

“It’s 9am tomorrow. You could come with, maybe meet the prof and see what you think?” Willow nudges her shoulder.

“Mm, I guess I could do that,” she says with a little laugh. “Did you…are you…um, did you take that class just for me? I mean, to get me to do that?”

“No!” Willow says, eyes wide. “I wanted to be able to understand more of what you, you know, are interested in. And, and how it relates to magic, all of that. I only took one physics class in high school though, and our teacher was killed by a vampire before midterm, so I might be a little rusty.”

“I think I know someone who could help,” Fred says softly, unable to keep her lips from curving into a smile.

Willow grins toothily. “I was hoping you’d say that. I even read up on my physics puns just for you.”

“No, not the puns!” She starts giggling already and rolls over. The worst part about Willow-puns isn’t the actual pun, she reflects, it’s the silly face she makes when telling one. So if she can’t see it…

“They’re both strange and charming! You might even say they’re… _quarky_.”

Oh, she’s so screwed.


	3. i can't believe that i can be happy

Willow’s never thought about herself as an unhappy person. When she was a kid, her dad had always called her a “little soldier” (and then her mom would interject something about the military-industrial complex, but that's getting onto a tangent she doesn't feel like thinking about right now) because she just kept her head down and kept going, whatever the circumstances. But recently she’s been aware of herself being actually _happy,_ kinda like how you don’t notice how good it feels to breathe until you’re starting to get over a cold.

Anyway, things are objectively good. She’s halfway through her first semester of college and, as long as the forces of darkness don’t distract her, it looks like she’s getting all As. She lives with one of her very best friends in the whole world, and she’s learning more about witchcraft everyday. Besides her singleness (which she barely thinks about anymore), her life is pretty perfect.

Willow's dorm room door opens to reveal Fred, who is slightly flushed. “I forgot about knocking again, sorry. You ready to study?” Despite her tiny frame, Fred is easily carrying several large textbooks. She'd probably attribute her strength to the whole cave-life, but Willow thinks she was probably tough all along.

“Absolutely!” Willow says with a little more enthusiasm than necessary. The other Scoobies would tease her about being nerdy, but Buffy's in class and Xander’s doing the whole grown-up-job thing, so it’s just the two of them.

She moves over to the bed and clears off the American Lit homework she finished earlier. Fred sits gracefully, tucking her legs underneath her. Willow hands her the textbook and she opens it to a heavily highlighted section. “This is one of my favorite topics,” she says, pushing up her glasses, and Willow tries not to giggle because she’s said that for every topic they’ve covered so far. “Of course, this class is still pretty introductory so they don’t cover a lot of the really good stuff, but I brought along a couple of articles I think you have the necessary background to understand. I thought you could look through those while I read over your flash cards and then we could go over the material for the test…what?”

She must have been staring. Two thoughts come to mind. One, Fred is really cute. She could tell her that, but for some reason it’s different when she says it to her than to Buffy or someone else. Fred always gets that pretty little blush which makes her even cuter but she seems sort of uncomfortable and she’s Willow’s friend and the last thing she wants to do is make her uncomfortable so - maybe not, if even the thought is making her rambly. Two – “Just – thank you,” she says, stumbling over her words a bit. “For sharing this with me. I mean, no one else really gets it when I get excited about stuff like this – except Giles, but he’s like, Teacher Guy, and you’re not like that. Not that you wouldn’t be a great teacher! But it’s more even ground, friend to friend shared learning kind of thing. And…I like it.”

Fred doesn’t blush, but she does tilt her head to the side and say in a whispery voice, “I like it too.”

Willow feels herself grinning like an idiot but can’t do anything to stop it. Oh well.

* * *

 

“NIIIITYACOMMON!” Willow cheers as she barrels into the dorm room where Fred had been making herself at home. She puts down the Batgirl comic Xander lent her and sits up.

“What?”

“Ninety eight and a comment!” she repeats more clearly, waving the test packet in front of Fred’s face. It’s too fast even for her to read, so she snatches it from the redhead's hands and flips to the first page.

“Excellent work, you have a future in this field,” Fred reads aloud, heart bursting. “Willow!”

“I know!”

Impulsively, she throws her arms around the other woman, who reciprocates immediately. A little shiver runs up her spine; of course, she knows the reason why, but she's not thinking about that. This is Willow's moment.

“It’s all thanks to you,” Willow says from over her shoulder, breath warm on Fred's neck.

“It’s really not,” Fred says honestly, releasing her from the embrace.

“Are you kidding me? You’re the best tutor I ever had.”

“The only tutor you ever had,” Fred retorts playfully.

“Maybe,” Willow confesses with a cheeky grin. “But you’d be the best, anyway.”

Fred tries not to blush. She’s always been a little ashamed of how easily she blushes when praised, but she’s never quite managed to break herself of the habit. It’s especially hard not to blush when Willow is looking at her like that, all bright eyes and gently curved lips.

“So did my evil plan work?”

It takes a second for her to register Willow’s words. “What evil plan?” she asks, laughing a little.

Willow raises her eyebrows. “Did you realize you love it too much to quit? And by it, I mean, you know, physics, school, teaching, the whole nine.”

Fred sighs. “I finished my application packet, but I haven’t turned it in yet.”

“The deadline’s tomorrow, right?”

She nods. “You’re right, I do love it, all of it. But I’m scared. I mean, I’ve got three years just totally unexplained on my CV. As far as UCLA is concerned, I just dropped out one day with no notice. That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in my abilities.”

“Is that the envelope?” Willow asks, picking it up.

“Yeah. I already sealed it so I’d stop messing with it.”

She runs her hand over the large envelope. “Maybe it just needs a little help to get it on its way.”

Fred frowns. “You don’t mean magic, right?”

“I was thinking good old-fashioned luck, but if you think magic would help…” Willow teases, eyes lighting up. “I’m not so great at the influence spells though. With my luck you’d end up with five crusty old guys all mad-lusty for you.”

Fred shudders a little. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

“Probably for the best. But how about a kiss for good luck?”

Fred feels her cheeks heat up, but before she can say anything, Willow lifts the envelope to her mouth and presses a kiss to the seal.

Oh. Well. That makes sense.

She’s not sure what she expected.

* * *

 

Willow may not celebrate Christmas, but that doesn’t mean she can’t have a Christmas mission. And this year, that mission is to distract Fred, both from grad school admission and from any holiday homesickness.

Buffy needs the distraction, too, so the three of them spend the first week of Christmas break filling every available minute. Shopping, baking cookies, watching movies (“I like Rudolph,” Fred says wistfully, but Xander’s still at work and Willow doesn’t want to see the look on his face if they watch any holiday specials without him), whatever occupies their minds. Then Giles goes out of town (“Probably to visit one of his _girlfriends_ ,” Buffy says, sounding a little grossed out even though Willow thinks it’s sweet), so they all get stuck with Spike-sitting duty.

“I’m not watching any bloody Christmas specials,” he says sourly as they crowd around Giles’s tiny TV.

“ _Grinch_ it is,” Xander says, throwing the remote at Spike’s head. He misses by a mile and it lands in Spike’s lap.

The vampire bares his (human) teeth. “Ha,” he snarls, wriggling around to try and reach it with his hands still bound to the armchair. “No. Bloody. Christmas. Specials.”

“Fine,” Buffy says snippily as Spike finally gets ahold of the remote. “No. Blood.” She raises her eyebrows combatively, obviously pleased by her own wordplay.

“Why don’t you just pick the Christmas special, Spike?” Fred suggests sweetly. Willow marvels at how even the neutered vampire seems to have developed a soft spot where Fred's concerned.

Keeping up appearances, Spike glares at her. Fred meets his gaze.

He sighs and hangs his head. “ _Charlie Brown Christmas_ , then. And God help me, if any of you breathe a word about this I will find a way to get this thing out of my head and I’ll eat you.”

“Wasn’t that your plan all along?” Anya asks around a mouth of popcorn. “That’s what you’ve been saying since Thanksgiving. Get the chip out of your head, eat us, blah blah blah. Vampires are so boring. No creativity.”

“Fine. I won’t eat you. I’ll…string you up by your toes and I’ll put leeches on your face and I’ll pour bleach on you till you die. Happy?”

Anya shrugs and continues eating her popcorn.

Next to her, Fred sighs and lets her head fall against Willow’s. “I always wanted a big family, you know,” she says, quietly enough that only Willow hears.

A firework explodes in her chest. She doesn’t really know what to say to that, but _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ starts up, sparing her. She could swear she feels Spike’s eyes on them, smug and knowing, but she ignores it. He’s probably just hungry.

* * *

 

Two months into spring semester, three weeks after Fred’s interview and four days after her official notice of acceptance into UC Sunnydale’s graduate physics program, Willow starts acting weird.

Fred isn’t really sure how else to describe her behavior except that: _weird._ Anomalous. Unusual. And not in a good way. She keeps shooting her mysterious glances and frowning when she thinks Fred isn’t looking. It might be endearing how obvious she’s being if it wasn’t so concerning.

After three days of Willow’s hot-and-cold behavior, she decides she needs to talk to someone about it.

“Mr. Giles?”

There must be something in her voice that tells him this isn’t a question about the Latin volume she’s working through, because he immediately sits down at the table with her, takes off his glasses, and begins cleaning them. “Is something wrong?” he asks gently.

She bites her lip. “I…don’t really know. I’m not always the most interpersonally adept, at least according to what people tell me, but Willow’s being kind of…weird.”

His cleaning becomes more fervent. “Yes, I had noticed that as well.”

“And it’s just with me, right?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Giles says, not quite looking at her.

“Did I do something wrong? I don’t understand,” she says helplessly.

His eyebrows ascend toward his hairline. “No, I don’t imagine you did.”

Growing frustrated, she blurts out, “Did she say something to you?”

Giles looks taken aback. “No,” he says honestly. “Willow hasn’t said anything to me, and I’m not certain that anyone else has noticed anything amiss.”

Fred sighs, and it must be louder than she intended because it echoes in her ears. Giles is looking at her with something like sympathy.

Then, somewhat carefully, he puts a hand on her upper arm. “Fred,” he says uncomfortably. “I know these things – relationships – can be rather, well…confusing, and even upsetting at times. But you have a home here, and that means you never have to hide or to...to run from your emotions.”

“You noticed that too, huh,” Fred says wryly.

Giles offers a soft smile. “I haven’t seen you so much in months, and while I appreciate your assistance with these texts…”

“I should really just talk to Willow.”

“Quite.”

She closes the book gently. “Thank you, Giles,” she says, inner storm somewhat calmed. The thought of Willow pulling away from her is more painful than it should be, but it does help to remember that the others care about her, too. They really are family.

Moved, she puts her arms around Giles, and he returns the embrace after only a brief hesitation. When she pulls away, she does her best to smile brightly. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yes,” he says, sounding like he wants to say more, but if she waits around to find out what it is she’ll never leave.

She tries not to hear a note of finality in the door as it closes behind her.

* * *

 

“I need to talk to you,” Fred says in a small voice, and Willow’s heart sinks. She opens the door, letting Fred in, but the other woman hesitates. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

Willow shakes her head wordlessly. She knows herself - better to stay within reaching distance of her crying tissues.

They sit on her bed, cross-legged and facing each other the way they have so many times. Fred looks young and uncertain; Willow feels impossibly old and heavy.

“What’s going on?” Fred asks, not quite accusing. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips nervously. Willow feels dirty.

Goddess help her, she’s never been brave. Her voice is a little trembly and she knows she’s talking too fast, she does that when she’s anxious and she’s really anxious but there are worse things to do when you’re anxious she guesses like swearing a lot or passing out or something. Deep breaths. “Youknowthatgirlinmyartappreciationclass?”

Fred blinks in surprise, in a way that makes her look like a fragile porcelain doll, and she could probably get into all the gender politics of why it’s a problem that capable women are seen as somehow fragile but she’s way off topic, _focus,_ Willow. “Yeah…the one who’s in your Wicca group?” She tilts her head slightly, cutely. _Fuck._

Oh. Now she’s swearing. At least it’s just in her head. “Mmhmm. We were talking the other day and I was telling her about you and how proud I was of you and - ”

(She smiles shyly as Willow goes on. “She’s lucky to have such a su-supportive, um, girlfriend,” she says, so quietly Willow almost doesn’t hear her.

But she does, and she wishes she hadn’t. “What?” she says, at least five times as loud as Tara’s voice. The other woman cringes back a little.

“I…sorry, I didn’t mean, oh my God, I misunderstood, it just seemed like…nevermind, it’s stupid…”

She continues making excuses as Willow’s brain slowly processes. “No, sweetie, no,” she says, heart racing. “It’s…it’s _not_ stupid. She’s not my best friend. She’s not my tutor anymore. She’s something else, something special. She’s my… _Fred_.”

Tara looks a little less skittish. “I understand.”

“You do? Oh…you do,” Willow breathes, pieces coming together. Tara ducks her head, shy but not embarrassed.

“Y-you should tell her,” she says seriously.

“I should tell her,” Willow repeats, feeling faint. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s very…yes.”

Tara smiles encouragingly, but before she can say anything else, the professor walks in.

Willow’s notes that day are completely indecipherable.)

Fred is waiting.

Willow’s throat is dry, but what the hell. “I like you,” she says from three feet above her body. Then Fred smiles and she comes crashing back into herself.

“Oh,” she says around a grin threatening to encompass her entire face.

“No, I mean I… _like_ you. I girlfriend-like you,” Willow says, anxious to make her understand and get the rejection over as quickly as possible.

Fred _giggles_. “Yeah. I like you too.”

Her mouth is probably hanging open, huh.

* * *

 

Willow looks like a fish, except no fish has ever been that cute. Fred smiles, awkwardly trying to reassure this person she cares for (so much she thinks her heart might really explode).

“I girlfriend-like you too,” she says, unable to keep the little squirmy-happiness out of her voice. She’s probably blushing, but she’s too giddy to care.

“You do? You…why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know if you liked, you know, girls. You’d only mentioned boys before,” Fred explains, pushing her glasses up. “Not that you can’t like both, I just…do you like both?”

Willow looks taken aback. “I don’t know,” she confesses. “I hadn’t even thought about it, really. I just know I like you. And-and it's great, and not really like anything I've felt before.”

Her expression is dreamy. _Fred_ caused that expression.

“That’s okay,” Fred says earnestly. “You don’t have to know.”

She doesn’t realize she’s biting her lip until she sees Willow’s gaze stray down to her mouth. Willow smiles a little, nervously, but when she meets Fred’s eyes again her expression is bolder. “I’ve never kissed a woman before,” she says, voice a little husky. For once, Fred doesn't have a problem reading between these lines:  _I've never kissed you before_.

She doesn’t wait for further encouragement before leaning forward and pressing her lips to Willow’s. It’s been so long since she’s kissed anyone, and if she had been thinking clearly she might have worried about that. But all she can think about is this moment – Willow’s soft lips, the cinnamon taste of her lip balm, the light pressure of Willow's hand on her arm and the feeling of her other hand starting to tangle itself in Fred's hair. Fred sighs a little, happily, as they part.

“I’ve never had a real girlfriend or boyfriend before,” she admits suddenly, tucking her hair back behind her ear. Her eyes widen. “I mean, not to assume - ”

“No,” Willow interrupts. Her hand slides to cup Fred’s face. “Girlfriend. That’s perfect.”

She feels warm all over, sleepy and drunk on happiness. “I know a lot of physics pick-up lines,” she informs her girlfriend (!). “Since you enjoyed the puns so much…”

Willow squeals a little and presses a tiny, impulsive kiss on the side of her mouth. “Tell me one.”

“Okay, um…my attraction to you,” she says, trying not to stumble over the words. It's important to get this right. “It’s like the Earth’s attraction to the Sun. A large force inversely proportional to the distance squared.”

She kisses the other corner of Fred’s mouth. “Tell me another,” she whispers against her mouth, and Fred smiles.

“Okay," she says again, a little more confidently. "According to the second law of thermodynamics…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about Willow's sexuality in this fic: I continue to write her as a lesbian although you may choose to view her as bi within the context of this fic. Since in canon she had more time in her relationship with Tara before we see her make any declarations about her sexuality, I thought it would make more sense for her to be initially uncertain when asked about her orientation. 
> 
> A note about which characters I included: I included everyone (even Tara) except Wesley because I genuinely don't know how to write a platonic Wes->Fred relationship and I didn't feel like giving him the attention needed for me to hash that out where it would make sense. I included Tara for three reasons: 1) I love her, 2) I wanted her to eventually be able to become part of the Scoobies on her own terms and still get away from her family, and 3) to leave the door open for more ships within this AU that I might be interested in - like Buffy/Tara.
> 
> Celia, I hope you enjoyed the Secret Santa fic and thank you so much for the awesome prompts <3


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